


Picture Perfect

by misura



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Community: fic_on_demand, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-25
Updated: 2006-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takaba loses his spark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Perfect

It's been three weeks since Takaba has taken a picture worth developing, and he's beginning to worry if he's lost whatever it was that made him feel like he's born to be a photographer before. He's not about to starve or get kicked out of his apartment; there are always jobs for people like him, who have a few editors owing them favors, and know all the tricks in and out of the book to make people look better on a picture than in real life, but it's not the same.

Takaba likes liking what he's doing, and taking pictures at some politician's wedding with a super-model who's half his age (if even that) and looks like she could be his granddaughter is not something Takaba likes. It makes him feel cheap and a little dirty, as if he's betraying a part of himself by taking a job just for the money. Jobs always used to be about more than money for Takaba, and even if he knows it's not like that for most people, it doesn't change the facts.

He's not sure what to do about it. He's not even sure if there _is_ anything he can do about it, which is a rather scary thought and one he prefers to keep to himself. Photography has always been his life, his first love, and the idea that he might be losing it is not something Takaba wants to think about, lying awake in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling of his room.

All of which leads, of course, to his spilling the whole story to Asami at the first opportunity, before his brains catch up with his mouth, to point out that really, does he expect Asami to fix his problem somehow? Asami probably doesn't even know what Takaba's trouble are; creative as Asami may be with a pair of handcuffs and a silk scarf, Takaba has never caught him at having any artistic ambitions.

If anything, Asami might actually be glad; Takaba losing his taste for pictures taken from yakuza and other dangerous individuals can only result in Takaba spending less time getting in trouble and risking his life, after all, and even if Asami might not shed a tear over Takaba dying on him, Takaba's smart enough to know there are too many people within Asami's organization who know about him by now. If something happens to Takaba, Asami's reputation will suffer.

"Maybe you should take a break," Asami says. His voice is very neutral. Takaba takes some pleasure in that; if Asami'd tried to order him around, Takaba's have had no choice but to disagree with his idea, just to prove to Asami he's not someone Asami can push around. Asami has learned a bit about him, and if there's a part of Takaba's mind that points out that perhaps that's not such a good thing at all, Takaba is perfectly content to ignore it.

"Maybe I'll do that." Takaba likes the idea, has in fact been considering it himself. It'll take a chunk out of his savings, but, well, he can live economically for the next few months.

Asami nods, obviously considering the subject closed. Takaba isn't inclined to protest too much, not with the direction Asami's hands are moving. He's brought up the subject, and Asami's sort of stated that he's not going to have his men drag Takaba back home if Takaba decides he could do with a few weeks away from the big city-life. That's enough, as far as Takaba's concerned.

(He really hated having to pay for broken fences and ruined doors, just because he prefered not to admit that his sort-of boyfriend is a crime lord with a severe possessive streak to the nice old lady who acted like she'd known him since he was two years old, after their first meeting.)

 

Two days later, Takaba has packed two suitcases and caught a train to the quietest, most rural area he could think of. He has brought a camera with him, just because it's hard to shake a habit, but it's in the same suitcase as his playstation and three of his favorite games, and Takaba intends to use the last a lot more than his camera. A few days of mindlessly killing bad guys and rescuing damsels in distress sounds like a nice break from a life of saving bad guys from looking that way in the newspaper and keeping damsels in distress from causing a bigger headline than Takaba's employer wants them to.

By some miracle, his trip goes exactly as planned, and his landlord even remembers him from their conversation on the phone, showing him to a room that might not be quite the spacious apartment with balcony that Takaba's been promised in the advertisement, but at least it comes pretty close, and Takaba's not inclined to be picky anyway. It's got a TV and a place to plug in his Playstation. Life is good.

After a night of gaming until his body demands he either gets more caffeine or some sleep, Takaba is woken up by the silence. It's not something he's had much experience with, but he thinks he might get used to it in time. There's a fairly modern bathroom that's all his own, for lack of other guests, and Takaba uses it before he goes down for breakfast, which is made by the landlady in person and tastes like home, before home became a cheap apartment on the sixth floor that eternally smells of fixer and stale pizza. When she asks wat his plans for the day are, Takaba plasters his best innocent smile on his face and mumbles something about possibly renting a bike or going for a walk.

He beats up some more bad guys, and watches the cheesy end-movie that spouts a lot of nonsense about love being the greatest power of the universe. Dinner's as good as breakfast, and Takaba jokes about needing to worry about gaining weight. He goes to bed early, and doesn't dream about anything at all, which is strange but not entirely unpleasant.

Four days later, he still hasn't taken his camera out of its compartment. In fact, he's only reminded of its existence when he tries to shove one of his games in the suitcase, and meets with resistance. He ends up putting the game in his other suitcase, with his dirty clothes, praying that it won't suffer from over-exposure to sweaty socks and shirts.

The train back home is delayed, but only by fifteen minutes, and Takaba spends the time trying to spot the bodyguard Asami has doubtlessly sent after him. There's a reason he hasn't gone sight-seeing, and his love for gaming is only part of it. The train arrives after twelve minutes, and Takaba gets in without having succeeded in figuring out which pair of sunglasses worn by a man in a suit looks more like it belongs to someone who's made a career out of crime.

He decides not to worry about it too much, and eats half the bag of home-made cookies he's been given as a goodbye-present. They don't taste half-bad, and Takaba's glad he's got another bag of them, safely tucked away in a corner of his suitcase that's miraculously remained empty.

 

Asami makes no comment when Takaba hands him the bag of cookies, not even to poke fun at the lack of sense of the gesture. Takaba tries to imagine Asami sitting in his office, his eyes scanning the pages of a report, absent-mindedly munching down Takaba's cookies. He fails utterly.

Takaba decides not to let it get to him, and sets out to get a picture of his on the front-page again, succeeding within a week in both this self-appointed task and in having Asami slam him against a wall in a part of town that's less than reputable, demanding what the hell Takaba thinks he's doing, risking his life for some stupid picture.


End file.
